A Stitch in Time
by O.A.I
Summary: (Snarry) Harry Potter knew the problems of time travel - that altering the past can have grave consequences - so he'd never thought to go back to change things. Fate had other ideas.
1. Knick Knacks are Dangerous Things

**(A/N) **This is a male/male relationship fic. If you have a problem with this, please do not read the story as it may offend you. Otherwise, enjoy. Please note that this story has been posted on other fan fiction websites under the same pen name.

**Synopsis:**

Harry Potter knew the problems of time travel - that altering the past can have grave consequences - so he'd never thought to go back to change things. Fate had other ideas.

**Note:**

Intended to be completely compatible with the entire Harry Potter book series. Keep in mind that, though I am rereading the books as I write this, it's possible that I may mess something up along the way. If you find something that contradicts actual events as DESCRIBED in the books (this story covers events not described), please let me know so I can go back and fix it.

**Warnings:**

Including, but not limited to: Snarry, foul language, violence, slash sex, total screwing with the events of all seven of the HP books (while remaining "true" to cannon). Other warnings will be added as necessary.

**Disclaimer:**

The Harry Potter series is copyright of J.K. Rowling and various companies, not me. I just a have a lot of fun messing around with the universe for entertainment purposes; I make no profit from this.

**A Stitch in Time**

**By O.A.I.**

**Edited by…**

**Chapter 1:** Knick Knacks are Dangerous Things

Harry Potter looked out the tower window and sighed. Everything seemed to be going wrong of late. Problems had been arising at the office for the past month now. Every day it seemed he had a new crisis to deal with. A few young nitwits fancying themselves dark wizards had been stirring up trouble. Frankly, Harry was tired of it. He wanted to go out and find these idiots himself rather than leave it to his somewhat ineffectual teams of Aurors. Unfortunately, running the department meant he couldn't, and instead was saddled with loads of paperwork. Harry had been sleeping at the office for weeks; Ginny was not pleased.

Ginny hadn't actually been pleased for a while, and this situation was only making things worse; they hadn't been getting along lately. Compounding the problem was James, their eldest son, who had been getting into trouble again, and again, all term – getting into fights, casting curses, cheating on his schoolwork, taunting first years, exploding toilets, and the list went on. Harry was starting to regret naming the boy after his father and god father. Added to the problem was the fact that Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts, was just about at the end her rope with James' behavior as well. In fact, that was why Harry was here in Dumbledore's old office, now Minerva's, - he's been summoned to address the situation.

He sighed again checking his watch, it was five past ten. Clearly Minerva was having some difficulties; she detested being late for anything. So, Harry decided to take his mind of the problem for the moment and chose to amuse himself. He looked at the odd collections of things about the room.

The office hadn't changed much, near as he could tell, from the way Dumbledore had kept it. The walls were still covered in books and the portraits of old head masters – all of whom were either absent or asleep. The curious silver instruments were still around, though not in operation; he'd always wondered what they were. Attempting to satisfy his curiosity, he'd moved over to the single low table the objects all sat on. They all seemed so delicate, and he didn't want to break them, so he kept his hands to himself; till he saw the strange stone cylinder on the dusty bookshelf behind the table.

He reached out lightly touching the unusual runes ringed around the object – it hummed with magic. He picked it up, his hand fitting perfectly around it, nestling comfortably between the two slightly larger ends. It seemed odd, but strangely he felt as though it somehow belonged to him. Opening his hand he examined the runes more closely, but they looked nothing like any he'd ever seen before. He ran his thumb over the strange star shaped numb on the one end.

He wasn't sure why, but he was reluctant to let go of the cylinder, however he heard someone coming up the stairs just then, speaking indistinctly and irately. He halfheartedly moved to put the object back on the shelf, when he noticed the picture that had been sitting behind the cylinder.

He was in the photograph, with all of the Hogwarts teachers – Dumbledore and Snape included - but that wasn't the thing that had caught his attention, it was the fact that he was as he is now – all long curly haired, scare-faced, adult, five foot eleven of him. Not only that, but he's grinning at the camera with his arm draped casually over Snape's shoulder, while the smoky writing hanging in the air declares "1990-1991".

"Oh, hell!" He exclaimed, his hand contracting over the cylinder, and inadvertently pressing the star shaped numb. A light engulfed him and he disappeared.

Harry felt his feet hit after a moment of weightlessness, and he opened his eyes to find he is precisely where he had been standing a moment ago, except, there is no picture on the shelf, the books are distinctly less dusty, and the stone cylinder isn't in his hand.

"Ah, you must be Parry Hartwell." Said a sage old voice from behind Harry, "I must say, I am rather impressed; few people can simply appear in my office." Harry turned, that voice sounded awfully familiar, but it wasn't possible. "I, as I am sure you realize, am Headmaster Albus Dumbledore." It was Dumbledore, there was no mistaking him. "And you, are now Hogwarts' newest Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor." The old Headmaster smiled, his eyes twinkling merrily. "Assuming, of course, that you still want the job?"

(_To be continued_)

**(A/N)** This is in answer to aliciamasters' "Deathly Hallows Cannon Challenge" posted on Walking the Plank: Port of the Snape-Harry Ship. I really want to write this and will endeavor to update regularly; no promises though.

I could also use the talents of a beta reader, if someone would like to volunteer.


	2. The Impossible Parry Hartwell

**(A/N) **All warnings, notes, and disclaimers can be found in the first chapter.

**A Stitch in Time**

**By O.A.I.**

**Edited by…**

**Chapter 2:** Harry Potter and the Impossible Parry Hartwell

"Yes, I do still want the job. Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore." It wasn't the first time in his life that Harry Potter was glad his instincts had taken over, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. While he looked calm on the outside, his mind was reeling. He needed time to think, to figure out exactly what had happened.

What was going on? How was Dumbledore here? Was this some kind of trick? What had that strange cylinder been? And how did Parry Hartwell - a man Harry knows doesn't exist - wind up applying for a position at Hogwarts?

"Wonderful." Dumbledore said, before gesturing at the chair across from his desk. "Please, have a seat and we'll handle the paperwork." Harry sat automatically, following his years of experience in handling odd situations. "This is the standard yearly teaching contract, for new hires of course." Dumbledore passed him long bit of parchment, "If you fill the position adequately, we'll discuss extending it to the next year."

He vaguely read the paper, it covered a wide range of matters, from pay and duties to rules and holidays; he signed it Parry Hartwell. Of course, that meant it wasn't legally binding, being as there was no Parry Hartwell.

At one point, before he'd been put in charge of an Auror division, Harry had been tasked with tracking down Parry Hartwell. The Tax Division of the Ministry had been irate over the man because he appeared to owe a significant amount of back taxes; they'd had no luck tracking him down to collect, and suspected he was guilty of a lot more than tax evasion. There was just one problem; Hartwell didn't exist, not really. The name was an alias used to cover someone's tracks. That someone, Harry, had never been able to track down. Admittedly, whoever the man really was, he'd been rather ingenious about creating his false identity.

Parry Hartwell's entire history had been falsified in the Ministry of Magic's archives; not just anyone could do that. The forger needed to know how the documents were made, and what was needed to put them together. Then there was the necessity of proper clearance to even access the right archives, but he'd never been able to prove it was someone working at the Ministry. He'd single-mindedly tried to track the person behind the name down. He'd even tried more than fifty different ways to track the magical signatures on the false documents to the culprit, but the tracking singles had never moved anywhere.

Harry looked down then at the signature he'd just forged, and stared. No, it couldn't be. He couldn't _be_ Parry Hartwell, could he? He'd never thought to consider himself a suspect, but the trace would never have moved away from him if it was his own magic on the documents. Then, there'd been that picture - a picture that showed Harry in a time and place he didn't belong. Hartwell's known activities went back to the 1990's.

'_Hell's bells,_' Harry thought, '_I've found Parry Hartwell._'

"Are you quite alright, Mister Hartwell?" Dumbledore's words cut through Harry's shock, and he realized he'd frozen. Shaking it off, he said the first thing that came to mind, as he handed back the parchment.

"Yes, just struck me - first contract I've ever signed, like this – a proper job and all." Harry new, half truths always made the best lies. This _was_ the first time he'd signed his name as Hartwell, and as far as he'd seen there was no copies of any contracts filed with the Ministry under that name.

"You did mention in your application you spent most of your life adventuring; first time for everything, I suppose." The Headmaster acknowledged, taking the parchment back and placing it on his desk. "Come along now, the rest of the staff are waiting to be introduced to you. We'll have the first staff meeting for the year afterwards." Harry nodded following the older wizard of the office and down to the staffroom.

"Everyone, this is Parry Hartwell, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor." Dumbledore gave a big sweeping gesture to emphasize Harry's presence. "I do hope you will all make him feel welcome." He then pointed out each instructor in kind; fourteen handshakes, five nods, and three chilly ghostly flutterings later and he'd met everyone. Only one person had seemed hostile, and that had been Snape. How Harry, or Parry rather, was going to get to the point where he could lean on the obstinate man for that photograph without getting cursed, he didn't yet know.

"I'm afraid I don't recognize the name Hartwell, what house were you in?" Professor Sprout asked.

"I'm afraid I didn't attend Hogwarts." Another half truth - Parry certainly hadn't.

"Oh, yes. Thank you for the reminder, Pomona." Dumbledore exclaimed, "Mister Hartwell if would, put this on. It will let us know which house to tell the students you're affiliated with; they do so prefer to know." He held out a dirty looking blob, which Harry recognized as the Sorting Hat.

"Alright." Harry took the hat, placed it on his head and closed his eyes.

'_My, my, my. You are most definitely not who you appear to be, eh Mister Potter._' The Sorting Hat whispered to Harry. He groaned inwardly. Of course, the hat would be able to tell; there went the possibility of keeping his identity a secret.

'_No need to get upset._' The hat chided, '_I can tell you're not here to cause trouble._'

'_Thank you._' Harry breathed an inward sigh of relief.

'_I suppose you'll want to be a Gryffindor?_' The hat asked.

'_No!_' Harry thought furiously, '_Parry Hartwell needs to be very different from what Harry Potter will be, to prevent them figuring it out._"

'_Very well then, let's make it -_'

"Slytherin!" Harry opened his eyes to take off the Sorting Hat and saw the demeanor of the room had transformed. The expressions of most of the teachers had changed; no one, except Dumbledore, was smiling. Snape, on the other hand, was now looking at him with a measure of curiosity.

'_Well,_' Harry though, '_if nothing else, this is going to be interesting._'

(_To be continued_)

**(A/N)** The Plot Bunny has me by the ankle! He won't let go!


	3. Continuity Crimes

**(A/N) **All warnings, notes, and disclaimers can be found in the first chapter.

**A Stitch in Time**

**By O.A.I.**

**Edited by…**

**Chapter 3:** Committing Crimes for the Sake of Continuity

For the third time in his life, Harry Potter was breaking into the Ministry of Magic, and he was beginning to worry this said something very disparaging about his character. It certainly didn't help matters that he knew for a fact he was going to have to do it again before the end of the school year.

'_If I'm not careful, this is going to turn into a habit._' Harry thought as he moved silently through the darkened Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. He moved past the registration desk and the golden gates opened before him, automatically recognizing his Auror security badge. He was very glad he'd been too tired to change out of his work clothes before going to Hogwarts to see Minerva about James; everything he'd had on him before being shunted back into the past had come in quite handy so far.

The hefty bag of Galleons he'd had on him had bought what he needed to falsify the documents to create Parry Hartwell. He felt a bit bad about using them; they were supposed to go to Ruby Shelsher, widow of the late Neman Shelsher. "Wouldn't it be lovely for her to receive the money and condolences from Harry Potter?" The department head had said. He knew it was ploy to keep the woman from making a fuss over the man's accidental death, but he was glad now the job had been forced on him. He'd of course make sure she'd receive the money, even if would take 27 years before he could give it to her.

The Time-Turner he'd been using at work had certainly come in handy, seeing as he'd needed to create Parry Hartwell _before_ applying for the Defense position at Hogwarts. Prior to arriving in the past the massive amounts of time sensitive paperwork he'd had to deal with had necessitated the use of the little device. Technically he wasn't supposed to leave the office with it, forgetting he'd had it on him had been a streak of luck.

He'd spent the week after becoming the Defense teacher putting together what he would need to plant in order to convince Dumbledore Parry was qualified for the job. He'd then traveled back two week so he could infiltrate the Ministry to archive the documents. After this little foray in law breaking he was going to be making a few house calls to deposit a some fake memories and photographs with his 'references'. He was glad he'd thought to ask Dumbledore for a look at his employee file, it had let Harry know precisely what he need to do and when.

His Invisibility Cloak had been the most valuable item he'd had on him, by far. He was glad he'd thought to line his everyday cloak with it – a simple reversal and, like now, no one was the wiser to his presence. Not that there was anyone to notice him in the Ministry at one in the morning. He had had to worry over some of the items he'd need to buy, being as a large number of them were illegal. Keeping his identity a secret from the shop keepers in Knockturn Ally had been simple while invisible. Luckily, the sorts of wizards found there were not surprised by people wanting to remain anonymous.

In the hall beyond the golden gate he stepped into a lift, taking it down to level nine. "The Department of Mysteries" the voice chimed to him before he moved out into the main foyer. From there he could see down the corridor that led to the Department of Mysteries, though that was not where he was headed.

Moving to the right corner where the long corridor met the main hall, he ran his fingers up and down the edge till he found the invisible notch. Keeping one finger in the indentation he traced it down the hall. Two thirds of the way to the black Department of Mysteries door, the notch ended. He slid his security badge out of his back pocket and pressed it to the bare section of wall just ahead. A clicking noise alerted him to the hidden door unlocking, and as he slipped his badge back into his trousers, the section of wall melted away to reveal the entrance to the archives. He stepped into the room and the door replaced itself, though solid from the hall, it was insubstantial and see-through from inside the room.

Why the Ministry had put the archives down here Harry had no idea. He'd asked once, all anyone would say was "It's safest down there." He supposed it had something to do with way everything was archived, though thing that did the filing seemed innocuous enough to Harry, but as he knew looks could be deceiving. The giant sphere in the middle of the room gave off an eerie blue light, casting shadows from the vine like growths littering the floor, connected to the mounds scattered about the room.

He made his way carefully to the sphere. Putting his hand in his pocket he pulled out a miniscule box and resized it with a wave of his wand.

"Search: Parry Hartwell." He said clearly. Little boxes like the one in his hand began flying about in the sphere, and Harry was, not for the first time, reminded of a Christmas snow globe; perhaps that was why he'd never been bothered by this thing. After a moment, black words floated up to Harry's eye level:

_No Match Found_

"Insert corrective entry, same subject." As he spoke the black lettering changed:

_Please Insert Corrective File Box_

A whirlpool formed below the words. He held the box to the edge of the vortex, which snatched them out of his hand and the surface of the sphere calmed. The lettering returned a moment later:

_Correction Received And Verified_

_Would You Like To Confirm?_

"Yes." The information he had so painstakingly forged over the last week swam up in flurry of letters and images. A brief look told him everything had gone through correctly, he was now 'officially' Parry Hartwell; the really hard part was over. Then, things went pear shaped.

He'd only just turned back towards the exit, the information on the sphere dissipating, when the alarm blared to life. He didn't move. He didn't breath. As he tried desperately to think of what he'd done to trip the alarm and determine if he could shut it off, he almost missed the dark hooded figure running past the entrance towards the lifts. The person's arms were filled with parchment – singed parchment – some of which fell to the floor, forgotten in the escape.

Harry breathed out; no one would be looking in the archives. While he had to ignore his instincts to pursue the thief, he couldn't help but wonder what was being stolen. Moving into the hall he looked up and down the corridor. The figure was gone, and the door to the Department of Mysteries was open, through it he could see another door ajar leading to a room filled with sparkling lights - the Time Room.

He swiftly picked up one of the dropped bit of slightly blackened parchment and frowned. It was a diagram of the cylinder that had sent him back in time. Whatever was going on, it was much bigger than he had thought.

(_To be continued_)

**(A/N) ** Did I compress this chapter too much? Should I put in dates to clarify when things are happening? Feedback is invaluable to me, and it will help make the story better.

Also, please check my profile for important information pertaining to updates.


End file.
